"

"Ay," replied Frank, "but when we come to join it isn't the time to
begin to think of it; don't you know what the ould saying says--_ha nha
la na guiha la na scuillaba_--it isn't on the windy day that you are to
look for your scollops."*

* The proverb inculcates forethought and provision.
Scollop is an osier sharpened at both ends, by which
the thatch of a house is fastened down to the roof. Of
a windy day the thatch alone would be utterly useless,
if there were no scollops to keep it firm.

"An' what 'ud prevent you, Art, from goin' to larn a trade?" asked his
father.

"I'd rather stay with you," replied the affectionate boy; "I don't like
to leave you nor the family, to be goin' among strangers."

The unexpected and touching nature of his motive, so different from what
was expected, went immediately to his father's heart. He looked at his
fine boy, and was silent for a minute, after which he wiped the moisture
from his eyes. Art, on seeing his father affected, became so himself,
and added--

"That's my only raison, father, for not goin'; I wouldn't like to lave
you an' them, if I could help it."

"Well, acushla," replied the father, while his eyes beamed on him with
tenderness and affection, "sure we wouldn't ax you to go, if we could
any way avoid it--it's for your own good we do it. Don't refuse to go,
Art; sure for my sake you won't?"

"I will go, then," he replied; "I'll go for your sake, but I'll miss you
all."

"An' we'll miss you, ahagur. God bless you, Art dear, it's jist like
you. Ay, will we in throth miss you; but, then, think what a brave fine
thing it'll be for you to have a grip of a dacent independent trade,
that'll keep your feet out o' the dirt while you live."

"I will go," repeated Art, "but as for the trade, I'll have none but
Frank's. I'll be a carpenter, for then he and I can be together."

In addition to the affectionate motive which Art had mentioned to his
father--and which was a true one--as occasioning his reluctance to learn
a trade, there was another, equally strong and equally tender. In the
immediate neighborhood there lived a family named Murray, between whom
and the Maguires there subsisted a very kindly intimacy. Jemmy Murray
was in fact one of the wealthiest men in that part of the parish, as
wealth then was considered--that is to say, he farmed about forty acres,
which he held at a moderate rent, and as he was both industrious and
frugal,